ExitStage Right?
by dragonwrangler
Summary: Death doesn't quite mean what you think it does when you're a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.


Inspired by several pieces of fanart posted by erebusodora on tumblr.

* * *

Experience meant SHIELD agent Phil Coulson knew he was not where he had been when he finally regained consciousness. He was also not where he should be. If he had been anywhere on the Helicarrier there would have been sounds—the ticks and creaks of the superstructure expanding or contracting, the whisper of air being circulated through the ship, the muffled rumble of the main engines (or at least he should be able to feel the vibrations thrumming through whatever it was he was lying on), and if nothing else there should have been alarms going off or medical equipment chirping away somewhere nearby.

Instead there was silence. Not the silence caused by a sudden loss of hearing—he knew what that was like and this wasn't it—but one brought about through the simple absence of sound. No, that wasn't entirely true he realized. He could hear something; his own breathing informed him that, beyond his immediate vicinity, there was nothing out there producing any noise.

At least until a woman sighed and said, "You don't belong here."

Opening his eyes Coulson found himself at a bit of a loss when he saw the dragon looming over him with what could only be described as a mournful expression on its narrow grey-green face. He had no sense that it was physically there but obviously it was. Of course the dragon could have been a hallucination. Considering the last thing he could remember before waking up here that was a distinct possibility.

The dragon slowly blinked then looked towards something just beyond Coulson's feet. He was having trouble figuring out just how big the thing was since most of its bulk was hidden in the cold wispy white mists surrounding them but he could just make out the leading edge of a pair of wings rising up into the distance above the thing's head.

"Just one bite?" the dragon rumbled. There was a hiss as acid dripped from its jaw and burned through something below Coulson's line of sight.

"No," the woman who had spoken a moment ago answered patiently. "He may be a trickster but he is an honest one, Nidhogg. He should be in Hel not here in Niflheim. His blood would not sit well within you."

The dragon huffed, stirring the mists, and was clearly not pleased with that answer but withdrew nonetheless. Coulson stared up into the mists the head had vanished into for a few seconds then slowly pushed himself upright to look at the woman.

He knew who it was standing there—he had created the original files on both Thor and Loki and had included a write up on each of their supposed children just in case they turned out to be real as well—and as a result was not all that surprised to be meeting Hela, goddess of the Norse Underworld.

He was dead after all.

The goddess was several inches shorter than he was and covered from throat to toe in a formfitting outfit that was a green so dark that it almost looked black. On her head sat a crown—or maybe it was a helm—with flowing spikes twisting up and back from it. A mask covered her eyes and hair leaving only her lips, along with the rest of the lower half of her face visible. On her right cheek Coulson could see where the skin had died away. The muscles that were visible there bunched up as Hela tilted her head back and frowned.

"Actually you should be in Valhalla," Hela said as if she were continuing a conversation that he should have been paying attention to all along. "I am surprised that you were able to avoid the Valkyries on your way down to my realms."

"According to my sources," Coulson said, shifting one hand so he wasn't leaning so heavily on it, "they only take heroes killed in battle." When his hand bumped into something he looked down. A puzzled frown crossed his face.

"That description does not fit you?" Hela asked.

Staring down at the gun he'd used to shoot Loki with, Coulson shook his head. "No. Saving the world is my job. As far as I my understanding of the tales go, you don't get taken to Valhalla for earning a paycheck." He pointed at the gun. "Any chance shooting you with that will have any affect?"

"Here? No."

"Well, never hurts to ask." Swinging his legs off the…table?…altar?… he was lying on, Coulson slid down to the floor and rolled his shoulders back before looking at the wound Loki had given him. There was no pain, which was good, but he was cold down to the bone and was still bleeding, which was probably bad. An involuntary shiver ran through him.

There was a rustle of fabric and a cloak settled over his shoulder as Hela materialized in front of him. He stiffened and narrowed his eyes as the goddess reached out and touched the wound; the blood flowed down her hand to drip slowly off her wrist.

"The fact that saving the world is your job does not change the facts," the goddess murmured as she took a step closer. Warmth began spreading out from where she was touching him. "You are a warrior. Warriors go to Valhalla."

"And yet here I am," Coulson responded, his voice suddenly a little rough. "Deal with it."

"Oh believe me," Hela purred and raised her gaze up to his, a small smile curling her full red lips, "I shall."

* * *

After being left in the care of the mortal soldiers—considering the beating he'd been given by the green monster, going quietly was in his best interest for the time being—Loki settled into a sitting position on the floor of the makeshift cell they had placed him in and closed his eyes. As he waited for his body to heal, Loki saw no reason to waste his time staring back at the idiots guarding him and so he sent his mind out into the Realms to the one place he would be welcomed: his daughter Hela's kingdom.

It only took a moment for him to reach Hel and the castle his daughter had built as her base of operation. Loki knew the best place to wait for his daughter was in the records room buried deep in the foundations of the castle. One thing rarely mentioned in the tales that revolved around his daughter's realm was the bureaucracy involved in ruling the Underworld. The deeds of the dead had to be recorded, processed, and then acted on. Without accurate records Hela would not know where to send the souls she received and an honest man could end up in Niflheim or a dishonest one in Hel, disrupting the balance of the Nine Realms on a fundamental level. So it was a surprise to find, when he reached the glass wall that isolated the records from outside influences, someone else sitting in Hela's chair writing an entry into the rolls. The surprise quickly turned to dread when he recognized the interloper.

Loki rested his head against the glass and stared.

"I should thank you for sending him to me," Hela said as she appeared beside him. "He is quite a gift." He turned his head slightly to look at his daughter. A small smile was curling her lips as she looked into the room herself and she was dressed in something that showed more skin than he remembered seeing her in since she had reached maturity and been exiled to the Underworld by Odin. She looked happy. Considering what she was looking at, Loki did not take that as a good sign.

"I did not send him. How did he get here?" he asked.

"I do not know," she answered carelessly. "And I do not care."

Loki turned back to contemplate the SHIELD agent. He was dressed in a black nondescript tunic and leggings and at his side was…

"How is it that this mortal has access to the armory already?" Loki said, astonished. "And is that Hrotti he's wearing?"

Hela sighed and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Dad, don't be so cross. He's so nice. Let's keep him. Please?"

"Keep him?" he shouted as he turned to face her. "You cannot be serious, daughter!"

She seemed surprised by his outburst. "Yes. I am serious." She nodded her head in the direction of the records room. "The son of Coul has been of great help to me since he arrived here."

"Hela, he will be running this realm of yours if he stays much longer!"

Hela raised her chin and said in a haughty tone, "He is a Midgardian, he is hardly—"

"Do excuse me," a soft voice interrupted, "but would you care to explain how this magic works exactly? I prefer not blowing your castle up; especially when I'm still standing in it."

They both turned. There was a mild, quizzical look on the SHIELD agent's face as he looked at them. Cradled in one hand, a ball of light shimmered and twisted. It was magic— raw and powerful— and the Midgardian was having no trouble keeping it contained and under his control.

The wrist of the Midgardian's other hand was resting lightly on the pommel of the sword, Hrotti, strapped to his side.

_And there's one other person you pissed off… His name was Phil._

Loki silently swore in all the languages that he had ever learned. There wasn't a single language that he knew of that could express everything that was passing through his mind at that moment.

Hela smiled, clearly pleased with her new pet's abilities. Loki scowled. She almost looked… besotted. "He cannot stay," he stated through clenched teeth.

"Dad…"

"No. He must go. Now, Hela."

Hela rolled her eyes. "As you wish."

Going by the look in his daughter's eyes when she glanced back as she led the Midgardian away, Loki suspected he was going to regret telling her to get rid of her new toy.

* * *

"And why should I do that, brother?" Coulson heard as he appeared in the middle of what appeared to be a mobile command center. He ignored the guns swinging around to point at him as he took a step over to where agent Sitwell sat by a wall of monitors.

"Agent Coulson," Sitwell said, his voice nonchalant as he turned his attention back to his screen.

"Agent Sitwell." A sigh seemed to pass through the room at the sound of his voice and the guns dropped though they stayed out where he could see them. Coulson hitched the pack he was carrying a little higher on his shoulder as he asked, "Where are they?"

"In the basement." Sitwell pulled up a map of the building and pointed. "We're here." He moved his finger down to a section of the map that was highlighted in red. "Everyone else is there."

"Right." Coulson straightened and swung the pack off. Pulling a cylinder out, he glanced around and said, "Agent Woo?"

"Here." The agent leaned around the wall and raised an eyebrow. Coulson held the cylinder out.

"Containment unit for the Tesseract. Need to get it ready for immediate transport."

"Transport to where?"

"Asgard."

"Oh, that's gonna go over well with the WSC." Sitwell said as he tapped something into his computer.

"Rather it stayed here?" Coulson asked as he set the pack on a ledge and pulled out what remained inside. Sitwell's computer beeped and he could see IDENTITY CONFIRMED flashing on the screen.

Clearing the screen and bringing up another program, Sitwell responded, "Hell no. Just saying the shit's going to fly when they find out."

"They can take it up with the Asgardians."

Sitwell laughed and leaned back in his chair as he pulled an ID card out from an inner pocket of his jacket. "Let me know when they do so I can highjack that feed."

Coulson smiled when he saw it was his own card being handed to him. He wondered who had passed it on to Sitwell. Ignoring the dried blood staining it as he clipped it to the edge of the armor Hela had dressed him in for his return to Midgard he said, "As long as you make me a copy it's a deal." As he headed for the door Sitwell called out, "Should I let Hill know you're still wandering around?"

"No; I'm sure she'll find out soon enough."

By the time he reached the holding cell in the basement, Sitwell had clearly informed the guards he was on his way. They nodded and stepped aside without a word. Pausing on the threshold, Coulson checked out the situation inside.

Loki stood in the center of his cell, arms crossed and smiling as if he had the upper hand. Directly across from him, separated by the charged fencing surrounding his brother, was Thor; his hands clenched into fists and his body tense and ready for a fight. One step behind Thor stood the Director, arms crossed with a not smiling expression on his face. No surprise there.

Scattered behind the Director and Thor, dressed in civilian clothing, were the rest of the Avengers. Hawkeye and the Widow stood as far as one could be from the cell. Hawkeye appeared to be plotting something going by his expression but the Widow was already running interference—partially blocking her partner's view of the prisoner. Banner occasionally glanced up from the tablet computer he was working on and seemed unconcerned with what was going on while Stark was shifting back and forth, his attention split between whatever it was Banner was working on and Loki. Coulson wasn't sure what the Captain might be thinking but he did appear ready for anything considering the shield was strapped to his arm and not slung across his back.

Shifting his gaze back to the cell, Coulson found a smug look spreading across Loki's face as he leaned forward to say, "Why would I go with you, brother? Who have I to fear in this room?"

"Fear me," Coulson said stepping into the room. "Since your daughter seems to have has taken a liking to me."

Heads swiveled in his direction. Loki's eyes widened then narrowed as he began swearing. The rest just stared at him.

"Where have you been, Coulson?" Fury eventually snapped.

Coulson shrugged. "Actually to Hel and back again, sir."

"You said he was dead!" Stark shouted as he stabbed a finger at the boss. An odd look crossed his face as he look back at Coulson and added, "And did you just paraphrase the Hobbit?"

"He was dead," Thor said; his voice cutting Stark off before he could say anything else. The thunder god took a step towards him and looked him up and down as a puzzled frown slowly wrinkled his forehead. "But you should have ended up in Valhalla, my friend, not Hela's realm. How did that happen?"

"No idea." Turning his attention to Loki, Coulson held up a set of shackles Thor would have recognized as coming from Hela's realm the same way he would have recognized the clothes he was wearing. He smiled at the prisoner.

Loki made a valiant attempt to kill him with a glare and was shifting his weight to try something more effective and permanent when Coulson took the shackles in one hand and snapped his fingers. Magic crackled in the air between them. Loki scowled then muttered something under his breath and held up his arms.

After Fury ordered the power to the cell shut down and the shackles were in place, Coulson pulled out the gag Hela insisted he take with him. He was not happy about using it but could not deny the need in this case. Something sharp and dangerous flared in Loki's eyes at the sight of the thing but he remained still as Coulson affixed it in place.

Stepping back so Thor could take his place, Coulson said to Fury, "A bridge to Asgard is due to open in the Park in fifteen minutes. I'll give agent Romanoff and Barton the coordinates.

"You are not coming with us, son of Coul?" Thor asked as he took up a position behind his brother.

"No. I need to contact the agents watching over Dr. Foster and file my report on my side trip to the Underworld." He looked down at his garments then gave Thor a crooked smile. "And I could go for a change of clothes. Swords and armor are not my thing."

Thor laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Coulson reeled slightly under the impact. "Then I will leave you to your duties. When you speak to her next, tell my Lady Jane that I will see her soon."

"I'll be sure to pass that on."

As he took Loki's arm in his grip, Thor said to his brother, "Hela would do well to consider once such as the son of Coul as her consort. Maybe I should speak to mother on the matter when we return home." Coulson ignored the dark look Loki shot his way at that idea as they walked out of the room. He could not ignore the look his boss was giving him though.

"Should I be preparing for a wedding in the near future, Coulson?" Fury asked as he gave his agent a one eyed glare.

"God I hope not."

"Well, if you change your mind," Stark said, "let me know. I throw one hell of a bachelor party. In the meantime I'm going to go work on something that actually makes some kind of sense like string theory or time travel or some shit like that while we wait for the crazy train to arrive."

"Or you could just work up a program to track the crazy train you know," Banner said as he tucked the tablet under his arm.

"Good point." Stark paused then suddenly poked Coulson hard in the shoulder. "And you're going to be the one to explain to Pepper why I called her to start making arrangements for…" A finger was wagged in his face and then Stark spun on his heels and stomped out of the room. Banner watched him leave then nodded his head in Coulson's direction before wandering after the industrialist.

"Hm. Maybe I should let you get yourself killed more often if the results mean he shuts up for a minute." Fury waved a hand at Hawkeye and the Widow. "Go keep an eye on all of 'em and make sure no one kills anyone. That means you too, Barton."

"Yes sir." As the two agents started out of the room, Hawkeye said to his partner, "You're buying breakfast after we're done."

"Why me? And how can you be hungry after all that shawarma we had yesterday?"

"Cause I am and you were the one who bet Hill fifty bucks Coulson would be back in the game before the end of today."

"Fine."

"Well," Steve Rogers said after they left, "I hope eventually someone will explain what's going on but for now…" He slipped the shield over his shoulder and held out his hand; waiting until Coulson took it to say, "It's good to have you back agent Coulson and…" He smiled. "Thanks for believing in us."

Coulson blinked in surprise."You're welcome?" he said, not sure how to respond to that.

The Captain chuckled as he let go, nodded once to Fury, and left. Before he could enjoy the moment, the boss said, "I want your report on my desk by the end of today, Coulson."

"Yes sir."

"Also," A small smile quirked the corner of Fury's mouth and he tapped the headset attached to his ear. Coulson mentally kissed the rest of his week goodbye.

"Ah," Coulson said.

"Yeah. Not that I want that damn cube hanging around here any longer than necessary considering what just happened but the Council _is_ going to raise hell about us taking that temptation away from them. I want you to come up with a few contingency plans to deal with the Council if they start to make some noise about it. Also want you to dig up the moles they've planted in SHIELD and quietly weed them out."

"Moles, sir?"

"They launched a nuke off my ship. I do not want a repeat of that."

"I'll get right on that."

"Good man." Fury patted his arm and left.

As he started forming a mental checklist to keep track of everything he'd need to accomplish in the next twenty-four hours, a woman's voice said, "You don't belong here now you know."

"I do for now." He turned and looked at the death goddess. "Besides, I'm sure it won't be long before I end up back at your place."

She smiled. It looked a lot like her father's smile. "I look forward to that day, son of Coul." A nod and she was gone.

Coulson stared at the spot she had stood then drew in a breath and headed out to officially rejoin the land of the living. There was work to be done.


End file.
